Tired of Being Alone
by thescientistwrangler
Summary: He watched her, as she let out a small sigh in her sleep. Unconsciously she burrowed closer into the crook of his shoulder. Once he couldn't let himself be with her, now he couldn't imagine it any other way. *Inspired by myfantasiworld on deviantart*


**So Tired of Being Alone**

**The Scientist Wrangler**

**I do not own Gears of War, the gods known as Epic Games do. They deserve to be worshipped… WORSHIP THEM! Just kidding… not really _ _**

**Marcus/Anya**

**M for cursing and references to sex as well as nudity**

**Oneshot**

**Note: This was inspired by a doodle that myfantasiworld drew on deviantart**

Softly, just the calm rise and fall of her breathing, her fingers so delicate and soft resting upon his upper chest. After such a long time of knowing only the sensation of metal and blood against his flesh…he reveled in her softness. Afraid to move lest it awaken his lover, it had been a long grueling mission and now that they had a private little moment… well… Only an idiot wouldn't be able to figure out what had followed his arrival. Such smooth small lips against his own scarred, pleading to reassure her that he was really there.

It was always the same between them. Putting up a façade of polite acquaintances around the outside world. When alone, it was quiet sighs of desire, proving to one another that they were indeed still alive. A strand of her golden hair tickled his cheek, he unconsciously tightened his hold around her waist. This made her exhale and nuzzle even closer to him. Everything about her was absolutely perfect, not a single solitary disfigurement. In contrast to her pale soft flesh, he was marred by scars that spoke of survival. It had taken for too long for him to realize that the only reason nothing had occurred between them earlier, was because he'd been frightened.

Yes, such a massive warrior covered from head to toe in vicious shadows of his past, absolutely terrified. She had always appeared so small, like some kind of china doll, if he were to reach out and touch it… He couldn't lose her, in that single moment when he'd been frantically trying to get any sign that she was still alive…had been the darkest minute of his entire life. Death brings everything into a brand new crystal clear perspective. It only took two friendly verbal shoves to get him headed in the right direction.

Now here he was, watching her as she rested so peacefully. Cradled safely, protectively, within his arms. Blonde lashes fluttered, and he held his breath for a split second, praying he hadn't woken her. Another little murmur before unconsciously running her one hand aimlessly along his chest. It took all of his strength to stifle the rumble of appreciation at the feeling of those fingers dancing along his sensitive skin. Finally they rested upon the harshest of scars that stretched along his chest. He exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

One of her legs was nestled contently between his own, her chest was pressed up against the crook of his side. Noticing that her little shift had pulled down the sheets, leaving her bare from above the waist. He reached out to grab the edge and pull it up so that it rested just beneath her chin. A soft sigh slipped free from her lips, and once again his muscles tightened. His attempt to keep from awakening her had failed. Gently those teasing fingers trailed up to caress through his short mussed up hair. She pressed a loving kiss to the spot upon his chest where her head lay.

"Mmrelax…not…gonna….bite….promise…" Slowly the tension eased away from his body, a sleepy smile lifted her lips in response. Playfully she bumped the top of her head against his chin,

"Much better. It's hard to sleep when one's pillow keeps getting all tight." She yawned, her brows furrowed as she did so. He remained silent, no response was truly necessary. A short grunt was the only acknowledgement that he'd heard and understood what she'd said. This earned a barely conscious chuckle from the petite blonde, she ran her fingers along the length of the scar upon his chest. After a long passing moment, she finally spoke again, there was amusement coloring her words.

" It's an unspoken language with you. One has to learn what each and every grunt, grumble, or even rumble means…" she paused, the smile dimmed a bit. He wasn't the most social individual, but that didn't mean he was antisocial. His parents had taught him to choose his words carefully, loosely translated…not to waste breathing air with frivolous conversation. She continued.

"Good thing I've got lots of practice." It was times like this that she threw him for a loop. Expecting one reaction and receiving an entirely different one. She had stood there and accepted every tiny flaw of his, be it physical or psychological. It had been his own hesitance that had kept them dancing around the metaphorical lambent. Now here he was, with this unique fantastic woman. What would he have done without her? Just knowing that she was at least there with him at all times on the battlefield, had kept him going. She murmured into his chest quietly, her voice was trailing off as sleep was taking a hold once more.

"If…yer not here….when I wake up…yer not gonna get any…fer a _very_ long time…got that?" if he was one to laugh freely, he would have. All it earned was a content rumble from deep within his throat. She sighed happily, and placed another kiss upon his chest, before letting sleep take a firm hold of her. Once he was certain she was fast asleep, he whispered in the darkness of the room.

"I'm not goin' anywhere Anya." Only then did he follow her into a semi-peaceful rest.

END

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